“Who are you?” she asked. “What is your name?”
The board immediately began to write. By this time all heads, with the exception of Mr. Barton’s, were bent over the table and following the pencil.
“It’s Dick,” Aunt Mildred cried, a note of the mildly hysterical in her voice.
Her husband straightened up, his face for the first time grave.
“It’s Dick’s signature,” he said. “I’d know his fist in a thousand.”
“‘Dick Curtis,’” Mrs. Grantly read aloud. “Who is Dick Curtis?”
“By Jove, that’s remarkable!” Mr. Barton broke in. “The handwriting in both instances is the same. Clever, I should say, really clever,” he added admiringly.
“Let me see,” Uncle Robert demanded, taking the paper and examining it. “Yes, it is Dick’s handwriting.”
“But who is Dick?” Mrs. Grantly insisted. “Who is this Dick Curtis?”
“Dick Curtis, why, he was Captain Richard Curtis,” Uncle Robert answered.